


Earning Your Grade

by ProjectClesker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Spanking, professor/student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProjectClesker/pseuds/ProjectClesker
Summary: You are a Hufflepuff student who makes the grave mistake of defending one Mister Harry Potter in-front of Professor Snape. He punishes you in the form of a lesser grade, however, he is willing to let you earn your grade back through some good old fashioned corporal punishment. No lemon, just inappropriate spanking from our favorite unethical Potions Master.
Relationships: Hufflepuff!Reader/Severus Snape
Comments: 15
Kudos: 245





	Earning Your Grade

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first reader insert I have ever written, I want to eventually write reader inserts for girls in all of the houses. If anyone has any requests, I can't promise to write them but I'll consider it! I'm still somewhat confused about the grading system in Hogwarts to forgive me. 
> 
> This isn't *just* for Hufflepuffs, while the reader is in Hufflepuff I encourage you to step into her shoes and enjoy the story regardless of what house you're in. (I'm personally a Slytherin). 
> 
> Please forgive typos and the like, I really wanted to post this!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

You held your breath as Professor Snape made his way around the dungeon classroom, checking each of your classmates’ potions one by one. Yours sat in front of you, sitting in your pewter caldron, removed from the heat and ready for inspection. The class was rowdier than usual.

You, being in Hufflepuff, usually had potions with the Ravenclaws in your year. However, due to a sudden sickness this morning you were unable to attend your normal class. After a visit to the infirmary to get treated, you grabbed a note from Madam Pomfrey excusing your earlier absence in Potions. Not wanting to miss today’s lesson you meekly asked the intimidating professor to join his last class before dinner.

Missing points in Potions was always so difficult to make up.

After a small grunt and nod from the man, you found yourself spending a period with some Gryffindors and Slytherins. The whole thing was a shock to the system. The Slytherins, usually Draco Malfoy (whom you were barely acquaint with at all) would openly mock students in Gryffindor (Usually Potter, whom you were also barely acquainted with) causing the Gryffindor’s to retaliate. To say finishing this potion was difficult would be an understatement.

You tried hard to focus on your work and block out the petty squabbling of the students around you. You felt out of place and increasingly annoyed.

Not that you would say anything. You were proud of your potion considering the circumstances and hoped that the harsh professor would see the technique you put into it regardless of your illness and the distractions around you.

You got to see Snape’s bias on full display in this class. The Snape you got to see most of the time was simply stoic, and grumpy of course, but not totally unfair. The Snape you knew simply required you to show up, do your work and not complain.

However, the Snape you saw interacting with Gryffindor and Slytherin students was the one you had always heard about from others at Hogwarts. Cruel, heartless and unfair towards the Ruby house, while lenient, helpful and forgiving towards the emerald one.

He *was* the head of Slytherin, but you couldn’t help but think he was taking it a bit far.

You shook your head. You weren’t one to get into the middle of conflict or drama. You just wanted to get your potion evaluated so you can write up your report and get to dinner.

You felt the presence of your professor behind you, you look over your shoulder to see him step up beside you, peering into your caldron with judgmental eyes. He picked up the ladle to the side of your caldron and dipped it into the deep orange liquid, checking the viscosity of the potion. He used the other hand to waft some vapor towards his hooked nose and inhaled. You watch as one of his dark eyebrows raise just a millimeter.

“Nearly perfect. Glad to see your illness didn’t damage your brain, Miss _____.” His deep drawl made your skin prickle in excitement. You nod with a smile on your face.

  
“Thank you, professor!”

You receive a small nod in return before he moves onto the caldron next to you belonging to a Gryffindor student whose name slipped your mind. Already Professor Snape’s mood seemed to have shifted while evaluating the boy’s potion. You took your eyes away from the scene, keeping your head low you decide to start quietly bottling your potion for further evaluation from the potions master, along with finishing up your report for the day.

_“Go Crabbe, now, before he looks!” _

You heard Malfoy’s hushed command behind you, your skin growing hot hoping that the blonde boy wasn’t targeting you. That fear falls away soon however, as you watch in your periphery, Crabbe walk by your table to the table in front of yours and quickly drop something into Potter’s caldron before quickly walking back to his table behind you. Your eyes widen a bit and look around to see if anyone else noticed. No one, including Potter, seemed to see what happened.

You hear the three boys laughing to themselves, proud of themselves for ruining the potion of The Boy Who Lived. You turn to look at the three of them, locking eyes with Malfoy who gave you a look in return.

A look that said, _Keep your mouth shut Hufflepuff._

You turned around again, looking down at your work. You bite your lip, knowing you should say something, but, you really hated being part of a conflict.

You weren’t even supposed to be part of this class.

The sound of liquid boiling rapidly caught your attention, you look up at Potter’s caldron to see the dark orange liquid quickly turning brown and bubbling over the sides, making a mess of the boy’s table.

“Harry!” the redheaded boy next to Potter pointed at his caldron, catching the attention of the entire class. A combination of laughter and gasps filled the room as everyone watched Potter try in vain to stop the reaction.

“POTTER!” Snape’s voice silenced most of the noise in the room, except for Malfoy’s quiet sniggering behind you. “Can you not go one lesson without bungling up your assignment?”

Guilt filled your chest as you listened to Harry try to explain that he didn’t do anything wrong.

Snape only accused him of arrogance in return.

You took in a shaky breath, reading yourself for whatever came next before opening your mouth, “It wasn’t him, Professor.” You said just loud enough for Snape to hear you. He turned on his heel rather dramatically. The eyes of the whole class now on you, including a surprised pair of bright green ones, and a deadly pair of grey ones.

“Excuse me, Miss _____?”

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt the Potions Master was intimidating but he had never really _frightened _you. Before now, anyway.

“Someone put something else in his caldron.” The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“She’s lying, Professor, we have the same vantage point. All I saw was Potter screw his brew up.”

“I did not, Malfoy! You’re the liar!” Potter replied to the blonde, anger and frustration in his voice. Your eyes didn’t leave Snape, nor did his leave yours.

“I, too, had a good view of Potter’s caldron from where I was standing, Miss _____, and I didn’t see anyone even approach his caldron.” Snape’s voice was cold, your eyes widened at his words.

Was he serious?

“Now which is the most likely scenario? Someone sneaked by me and sabotaged poor Potter’s caldron, the perpetual victim he is- “

“Hey!” Potter began to protest but Snape’s voice reached over his.

“-OR, Miss _____, being a _fan_ of our very own little celebrity, is lying in order to gain his positive attention.”

Your mouth hung open a centimeter, unable to think of something to say, shocked at the turn of events.

“That’s not fair!” Potter’s friend cried out, along with a few other Gryffindor students.

“Silence!” Snape bellowed, “I will not tolerate this any longer. Potter, you fail this assignment. Maybe consider giving Miss _____ a signed autograph for her feeble attempt to come to your defense.”

You feel tears prickle at the sides of your eyes. You look down at your work, trying hard to block out the resumed sniggers behind you. You quickly finished up your work so you can leave, not wishing to attend dinner any longer. You waved your wand to clean up your station and turned in your work. You felt a hand on your arm as you tried to leave the classroom, turning to look up at Potter. He gave you a small sympathetic smile before heading off with his friends.

You sighed, making your way back to the Hufflepuff common room.

~~~~~

You wake up in your bed, forgetting for a moment the events that happened yesterday. You realized soon enough that Potions is your first class. Not happy to see the potions master again but happier that you get to go to class with your friends you get up and make your way to take a shower.

You walk up to the Hufflepuff table and sit next to a friend of yours, who asks you how you are feeling. “We didn’t see you at dinner last night.” Another friend of yours comments, turning her attention towards you while eating a piece of buttered toast.

You pull few pieces of toast for yourself from the rack onto your plate before slathering them with jam. “Potions with the Gryffindors and Slytherins was rough.” You signed, before taking a bite of your toast.

“I can’t believe you opted for making the potion up during your free period instead of taking the T. It’s not like you didn’t have a sick note.” The boy across from you said.

“Yeah right! It’s not as if Snape cares if you’re sick or not, you did the right thing by making up your grade.” The girl sitting next to you chimed in.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess, I ratted Malfoy out for sabotaging Harry Potter’s potion, Snape took the opportunity to humiliate me in front of everyone.” You said in a low voice, the memory of the event reminding you why you so often keep your head down.

Your friends give you a sympathetic look, “That’s rough.” One said, the other nodding in agreement.

“It was. But the good news is Snape said my potion was nearly perfect before the incident, so at least I got a good grade.” You say trying to look on the bright side.

You and your friends finish up your breakfast before heading down the dungeons for today’s lesson. You do your best to avoid Snape’s gaze as you make your way into the classroom and find your usual seat. You’re immediately a bit happier in the quieter classroom full of Puffs and Claws.

You assume that Snape is over whatever took place yesterday since he didn’t say anything to you. You feel some relief at the idea that today would just be a normal day. It isn’t until Snape begins to pass out evaluations of yesterday’s potions that you feel your heartrate speed up again.

The slip of paper that land in-front of you, with your name right at the top, in Snape’s scrawling script.

“P, over-brewed, shows lack of understanding and technique.”

You read the words over and over, clashing with the memory of Snape’s words from yesterday…

_Nearly perfect. _

Did you imagine that?

You look up at towards the front of the class when man in question clears his throat, his cold dark eyes boring into yours. No, you didn’t imagine it.

He’s punishing you.

You bite your lip hard.

Not that you weren’t aware of Professor Snape’s notorious… _unfairness_, but you had never really been on the other end of it.

And _this _seemed particularly cruel. Not only had you been sick the morning of making that potion, you were dealing with being in a different class setting than usual, with plenty of distractions **and** he had already appraised your potion positively. You break eye contact, looking back down at the offending parchment. You had never been one for confrontation (and why would you be? When you just witnessed the negative consequences of getting involved.)

You knew you should stay out of it, take the P, be happy that at the very least it wasn’t a T and keep your big mouth shut next time you witness an injustice.

However, you were having a hard time accepting that thought.

Potions that day consisted primarily of lecture, lecture that admittedly you weren’t listening to.

You ran through what you would say to your professor in your head if you decided to confront him.

And what the likely reaction would be. You couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would respect your side of the story and give you a proper grade, but not even trying to express your side of things seemed problematic as well.

You chose to come to class when you had an excuse not to. You worked hard on your potion amidst the chaos of a Gryffindor/Slytherin class period. Not that you were hoping for any sort of extra recognition, but a fair grade, the one you earned, would be nice.

You slowly convinced yourself that confronting your potions Professor was the right move. You needed a justification for the P still staring at you from the top of your parchment.

You doubted you would have time to talk to him properly after this period, as you had to head off to transfiguration, however tonight was a quidditch game, and you knew Snape was not one for the sport unless Slytherin house was playing. By the time the period ended you had made up your mind. You would come here instead of going to the game and try to reason with the man.

You ignored the pounding of your heart quickening at the thought.

~~~~~

Dinner went well enough, if it weren’t for the thoughts of the impending conversation with Snape, you would have enjoyed yourself. Hufflepuff was pumped up, excited to play against Gryffindor and there was a small part of you that felt bad for not going yourself to support your team.

Though you couldn’t back down now, you had spent dinner coming up with strategies for coming conversation. You could beg, though you doubted that would accomplish anything other than making you feel worse about your situation. You could dig your heels in, find the level of indignance that Potter seems to possess and really tell the man how you _really _feel.

You really thought this one was a bad idea.

You didn’t really nail down plan by the time you found yourself outside of the dungeon classroom. Part of you hoping to find the man in question inside, part of you hoping he retired for the night.

You raise your hand and knock on the heavy door, hearing the sound echo throughout the empty hallway. Too late to turn back. A silence followed the knock on the door, lasting far too long for your comfort before you heard a shuffling sound followed by a click. The heavy latch to the door must have been unlocked, followed by a creaking sound.

The door slowly swung open revealing the sallow face of your professor. He stood imposing in the door way, looking down at your shorter self, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Miss _____.”

It wasn’t a question, and suddenly you were confronted with the facts of the situation. You were there to request an audience, a meeting to discuss your unfair grade.

With the most notoriously unfair teachers in the school.

Suddenly you felt stupid, heat crept up on your face as you tried to form the words you had practiced earlier.

He raised a dark, thin eyebrow at you, unimpressed at your sudden muteness.

“I…” you started, your voice sounded louder in the empty dungeon hallway, you tried to ignore it, “I wanted to discuss… um, my…”

“Out with it, _____.”

You flinched at his cold tone, but collected yourself nonetheless.

“I wanted to talk to you about the grade you gave me… the P, Sir.” Your voice was as strong and steady as you could have made it in that situation. You expected the man to berate you, or scoff and slam the door in your face.

Instead he stood quiet, sizing you up before stepping back, and invitation in the empty potion’s classroom. You tried to not let the surprise litter your face, instead quickly making your way into the room, taking note of how strange the place seemed empty. You took a few steps in before stopping, not wanting to break the silence first as your professor closed the door, you hear the heavy iron lock clamp down as well which made your flinch involuntarily.

Maybe he planned to kill you and hide the body.

Maybe he would use your body parts for potions.

You shake your head to alleviate the silly thoughts. Snape sweeps by your side, walking back to the desk stationed at the front of the class. You watch him sit down, his deep black iris’ meeting your own eyes.

“Well?” his voice echoed across the empty classroom as you suddenly felt silly for not pursuing him. You walk quickly up to his desk and stand on the other side. You don’t answer, not sure how to begin the conversation, you were somewhat surprised that you made it this far to begin with, bargaining with the man didn’t seem possible before now. Snape sighed deeply, “Don’t tell me that you are tongue tied, out with it or quit wasting my time.”

You feel your chest tighten a big along with warmth covering your face, but your recovered as quickly as possible, thinking about the possibility of having a T on your record enough to raise your voice.

“No… Sir. I wanted to say that I don’t think it was fair that you gave me a T on my last potion. In class you told me the potion was perfect.” You heard your own voice echo throughout the room which was almost enough to throw you off track. 

He leans back into his chair, looking at you as if he’s surprised that you had the courage to say that much. You allowed the air to hang silent, not wanting to give into the urge you had to break it with begging.

You held your ground, waiting for him to respond.

“I don’t recall using the word ‘perfect’. _Nothing _is perfect.” His cold voice countered yours.

“But-“

“Are you calling me a liar?” Snape interrupted, reminding you of his behavior after you defended Potter.

“Yes.” you let the small word slip from your lips, almost hoping he didn’t hear it.

His eyes seemed to grow darker from where you were sitting, he began to raise from his seat, his arms outstretched on the desk, leaning over the oak surface, leveling his face with yours.

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you Sir. You said it was perfect, it meant a lot to me, then I defended Potter and… and-“ the heavy emotion was building in your chest as you spoke, threatening to spill over. You averted your eyes, not able to keep them connected to dark coal ones staring back.

You focused on catching your breath, breaking down in front of the man was far from what you wanted to do. You felt him move closer to you, making his way around the desk to stand before you, causing you to look at the black robes that covered his chest.  
  
“If you’re going to make a demand, Miss _____, you cannot avert your eyes in a cowardly fashion.”

You flick your eyes up towards him again, his closeness to you making him appear to tower over your shorter frame.

“I’m not cowering” Your voice isn’t as convincing. He smirks at you, knowingly, but doesn’t push it.

He crossed his arms over his chest slowly, looking down his hooked nose at you.

“What do you suggest I do? Simply _forget _your insolence in my class yesterday?”

You shake your head, upset that the man clearly wasn’t going to back down from his stance that your defense of an innocent student, was indeed, insolence.

“What, then?” he asked, his voice now taking on a bored tone, the conversation now less entertaining to him.

“Can I…” You lock eyes with him again, “Maybe… Maybe I can make up the grade? Do the potion again, or….” You take a deep breath, “apologize to Malfoy?” you try your hardest to keep from wincing at the last suggestion. Though at this point you would be willing to say sorry to the git to get your grade back, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with the Slytherin ever again.

Not to mention you didn’t have anything to apologize about in the first place.

Snape shook his head, “Don’t bother.” sounding annoyed at the suggestion, brushing it off with a wave of his hand, “and I’m not particularly fond of the idea of giving you more of my stores to make the potion again. I’m aware of your aptitude for the craft.”

While the admission from the man that you had not done the potion incorrectly was refreshing, you tried not to dwell on the fact that this admission didn’t come with an apology.

You still had to work for the grade you had previously earned.

‘Just get the grade back and move on. You’ve gotten this far, just ask him what he wants from you.’ Your thoughts brought your attention back to the task at hand.

“What can I do, Professor Snape?”

His eyes met yours again, and your struck by nervousness. There was something, a glint, a hint of something dubious behind his black iris’.

He leaned back on his desk, armed crossed again, one thin eyebrow raised very slightly. You kept yourself from stepping back away from him, cementing your feet to the floor.

“When I was a student, the convention for dealing with _disrespect _took a different form than just a simple detention, or an _apology_.” The tone of his voice mocking your previous suggestion. “The convention for dealing with _rude, _or _entitled_ students was simple.” He finished, whispering a small ‘accio’ under his breath, and before you could ask for clarification, a wooden spoon used for stirring potions was now in his hand.

Your eyes widened just a bit, staring at the offending object. You felt your breathing quicken, not wanting to jump to conclusions about what he was implying.

Maybe he was just trying to scare you. It was working. Your thoughts raced back to when you were a young child, being swatted lightly with a paddle against your clothed bottom by your grandmother after you threw a particularly dramatic tantrum. You remembered your own parents getting upset at the woman for the “archaic” punishment.

You thought to back down, assuming he was bluffing and would never really go through with a form of corporal punishment on a student.

Hogwarts wasn’t that type of school. _Anymore_, at least.

Though you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that felt the excitement growing. The image of the man in front of you standing there with the spoon in one hand, the other hand held out in a gesture as if to say…

_Well?_  


You couldn’t hold back the flush that filled your face at the suggestion. You wondered if maybe he was simply trying to get you to back down and accept your poor grade. You squared up your shoulders and licked your lips. Then nodded your head in agreement.

His expression didn’t change except for one eyebrow, seemingly with a mind of its own that often betrayed the rest of the stoic potions master’s face. Maybe he was surprised that you were willing. You looked at the spoon, thankful that it appeared to be thoroughly cleaned from whatever potion it was used to stir previously.

“I’m surprised this grade means so much to you.” His voice was slick with mockery, which made the heat that filled your face intensify. “I can’t imagine many of your classmates would choose to endure pain and humiliation in exchange for _one_ little mark on your record.”

You could never really recall a time where you heard Snape sound so… interested.

He seemed intrigued.

“I’ve already earned my grade,” you said not liking the implication that _you _were doing anything wrong, “I just want to secure it.” Your voice wasn’t as strong as it had been earlier, but you did you best to keep the meekness out of your tone.

The slightest of smirks graced the man’s face, filling your body with a chill from your neck to your toes.

You knew that you should say something to someone, report him to Professor Sprout, or even the Headmaster. However, you couldn’t deny the terrifying fact that you were _also_ intrigued by the turn of events.

You wanted to see how this would turn out as well.

The smallest of chuckles came from the man standing in front of you, as if he couldn’t believe how this had turned out either. You were waiting for the reveal that he had been messing with you. That this was all a jape and for him to humiliate you for being so _willing_ to submit to corporal punishment from your potions master.

Instead, however, he simply stepped to the side and gestured to the desk. Feeling your heart rate pick up as you stepped up to one side of the large desk, now standing so close to him that you could feel the man’s body heat. The nervousness inside of you grew exponentially.

Snape pulled out his wand, with a small utterance of a spell the stuff littering the top of his desk pulled to either side, make a clean space right in front of you. You stared down at the surface as Snape leaned closer, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath tickle the side of your face.

“Remove your cloak, and bend over the desk Miss _____.”

Goose pimples spread across your skin rapidly, unable to suppress the shake in your hands as you unclasped the small clasp that held the black and yellow cloak together. You pulled the Hufflepuff cloak off of your shoulders, folding it haphazardly before Snape took the bunch of fabric from your hands, tossing it on a table behind you.

“Over the desk.” He repeated, his tone a lot more patient that you had ever heard from the man before. You swallowed a lump in your throat before awkwardly bending yourself at the waist, over the desk. You jumped slightly when you felt the man’s hand on the small of your back, pushing gently to straighten out your posture. You couldn’t help the embarrassment as your realized that this was a better position for him to reach your bottom.

“Exhale.” He must have realized that you were holding your breath, you let go a shaky sigh, your body relaxing with it. You feel some of your weight rest on the cool desk top. “Place your hands next to your face, Miss _____.”

You do as you’re told, placing your still shaking hands flat on the desktop on either side of your head, one cheek pressed to hard wood as well. You thought about how practiced the man sounded and wondered for a moment if he gave this option to students more often than he let on.

You wonder for a moment if this was a normal practice within Slytherin House, considering Snape was the head of it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the man’s voice.

“Lift your skirt to your waist.”

Your eyes widened a bit, not able to comprehend immediately. While you didn’t really expect a spanking to happen over the dark grey school uniform skirt, the idea of Snape seeing your knickers was less than appealing. You didn’t move fast enough for the man, apparently, because his voice echoed through the classroom once again.

“Or shall I life your skirt for you, Miss _____? It isn’t a complicated task.”

You nearly squeaked at the suggestion, quickly moving your hands from the side of your face to the hem of your thick uniform skirt, pulling it up towards your waist, shivering at the cool dungeon air that graced the back of your thighs and bottom. You imagined what you must look like, and wondered what Snape thought.

Since he wasn’t sharing his thoughts with you at the moment, you had no way of seeing his face. You placed your hands back to their positions and waited.

The silence that followed was the most uncomfortable you had ever felt. You knew it had to be purposeful. The man was still standing behind you, not giving you any clue about what he thought or when he was going to start.

Trying to imagine the man’s face as he stared at your standard cotton white panties wasn’t helping your nerves either. You felt like your face must have significantly reddened as you sat there, presenting yourself to the man.

Finally, Snape broke the silence with a small, “good girl.” Almost too quiet to catch.

You felt a tingle deep within your belly at that, your legs trembling slightly.

“You will count out loud, clearly, with each strike. Do you understand?”

You swallow hard at his command, nodding at first, before thinking that he may want a verbal confirmation. “Yes.” You say, the single word echoing across the dungeon word.

“Yes?” his voice lingered, emphasizing the word you didn’t say.

You feel another strong shiver run through your body. “Yes Sir.” You hear the shakiness of your own voice as you correct yourself, and even though you cannot see your professor’s face, you can almost feel the smirk grow in response.

You try hard to keep yourself from trembling even harder than you already were.

“You will count to ten, if you mess up, or forget, I will start over.”

“Yes Sir.” This wasn’t the first time you had ever called your professor ‘Sir’. In fact, it was very common to use sir or ma’am in regard to the various professors and authority figures around the castle.

But this time the context seemed to have shifted. There was something different about calling Professor Snape sir during this exercise.

Something wrong, and exciting.

But definitely wrong.

You tried to keep your breathing steady, focusing on getting the task at hand finished, trying not to linger on the confusing feelings for too long.

The room seemed to have gone quiet save for the sound of the blood rushing in your ears and your breath. You couldn’t hear the man behind you at all which was disconcerting.

You assumed that was something that he liked very much.

You were almost to the point of asking if something was wrong when you felt it…

**Thwack**

The fiery hot sting of the wooden spoon on your arse. You flinched hard, your mouth open but only a barely audible whine escaped you as the sting from the spank lingered.

It hurt a lot more than you were expecting.

“One!” your voice offered eagerly, remembering what Snape had just said. He didn’t say anything in response.

**Thwack **

The second sting hurt worse, you pulled up your right knee in reaction to the blow, coming up under the desk as you curled your body. Your back arched tucking your buttocks inward as if to escape the pain that was still pulsating across your tender skin.

“Two…” you huffed pathetically. If two blows felt this bad you weren’t sure how you were going to handle the other eight.

You felt the man’s hand on the small of your back, again correcting your posture, “Stay still and straight Miss _____, or else I am going to assume that you are not taking this exercise seriously.”

The threat was minor but very present. You only nodded in agreement as you lowered your leg back into its straightened position and pushed your bottom out again. Your hands trembling slightly from the anticipation of the next blow.

**Thwack **

The third came too soon, the spoon landing almost exactly in the same spot as the second. You flinched hard in response to the spank, your legs shaking as your tried to keep your position steady. You couldn’t stop the audible squeal that exiting your mouth this time, hearing it reverberate around the room. You breathed hard, fogging up the surface of the desk.

This experience was nothing like your grandmother swatting your bottom a few times. You focused on getting your breathing under control, while bracing yourself for the fourth blow, unsure how you were going to handle it.

But nothing came.

You waited but the pause was now obvious. Maybe Snape was backing down after the last so clearly affected you.

No, probably not that.

You heard a small ‘tsk’, feeling the familiar shiver run down your spine tonight that seemed to be happening often, and you weren’t getting any more used to it.

Then it hit you.

“Three!” your voice cracked as you rushed the words out.

But you feared it was too late, your breathing picked up, not sure if you _could_ handle another three, on top of seven after that. Tears gathered in your eyes at the thought.

“I’m sorry Professor, I won’t forget again…!”

Your thoughts raced, your legs trembling, bent over a desk with your skirt flipped up, _begging _your potion’s professor for mercy. You knew this was wrong. You could go to Professor Sprout or _any _adult in the school and tell them what was happening, and Snape would be severally punished, or fired, even.

But there was something in the back of your mind, something lingering there that was hard to access, but the more and more degraded you allowed yourself to feel, the harder it was to deny yourself.

You liked this.

You had never felt this type of feeling before, had this type of attention from anyone let alone from the intimidating, officious Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house and some student’s literal worst nightmare.

She thought of poor Neville Longbottom’s boggart in the third year, word of that traveled quickly due to the humiliating nature of his Riddikulus charm used on the thing shaped like Snape.

However, the sentiment was still the same.

Professor Snape was terrifying. And you were enjoying his undivided attention.

“What did I say would happen if you forgot to count, Miss _____?” his voice was mocking, he was definitely enjoying himself, and you weren’t sure how to deal with that information.

“That…” you stumbled on your words, feeling like there was a lump in your throat that made it hard to speak past, “That you would start over.”

You felt defeated, he was going to start over.

“Good girl. Again.” A split second went by before the feeling of the spoon whizzed through the air and hit your bottom.

**Thwack**

You flinched, the tears in your eyes spilled over, “One.” Your voice cracked.

**Thwack**

“Two.”

**Thwack**

“Three!” you croaked out, your voice in pieces as you shook. You should have been at six by now. Your hands trembled by your face, and your body wrecked as your cried silently. The pain and humiliation were an interesting combination. You were no longer feeling anger at your professor, but disappointment at yourself for not following the simple instruction.

Disappointed that you were in more pain because of it, but you also felt a sting of your pride, you wanted to impress the man who was punishing your currently.

You didn’t linger on that thought for too long before another spank.

**Thwack**

Now on a different part of your bottom, the flesh not as beaten as the other, the blow wasn’t as painful as the others.

“Four.”

You wondered if he had done that on purpose to save you a small about of pain. You also couldn’t help but wonder what your bottom was starting to look like.

You wanted to know if Snape enjoyed his view of it.

Your reddened face burned at the thought, feeling that same tingle in the pit of your stomach, you squirmed a bit in hopes it would go away.

Instead it made it worse.

**Thwack **

“AH!... Five!” the fifth spank hurt more like the third, sending a shock of pain across your tender skin. You reminded yourself to focus on counting, the thought of losing track was suddenly terrifying to you.

**Thwack**

“Six!” you were panting a little bit now, catching your breath wasn’t easy, your body twitched, though you made a concerted effort to stay still.

You froze, feeling a hand run over the red hot and slightly raised skin of your bottom peeking out from your knickers. The tingling feeling intensified and there was no longer denying what it was. You felt the warm feeling pool in your lower tummy, the tingling sensation was reaching from your stomach to between your legs to your toes. You shivered under his hand but not from fear.

From anticipation.

You licked your lips and wondered if he would do anything more, but just as the thought entered your mind his hand left your backside.

**Thwack**

You yelped, as if the feeling of the spank after the gentle caress was even worse.

“Seven.”

You heard him chuckle, your already dry throat contracting in response to the sound.

“I wondered if you would forget your place.” He said simply, his voice light and amused.

You had no response, no intelligent response, anyway. You shook your head instead.

**Thwack**

Another high pitched yelp involuntarily exited you, your legs now shaking beyond your control, it was becoming more and more difficult to stay still.

“Eight.” You breathed out.

**Thwack**

“Nine.” You grimaced, grinding your teeth. You never in a million years would have thought that a simple wooden spoon could inflict so much pain.

“One more.” Snape said, reassuring you. You were thankful for it.

**Thwack **

Your eyes crossed. He seemed to put the most power into the last, “Ten!” you sputtered out, the idea of him started over again stilled your body with fear.

You lay over the desk, no longer as composed as you once were, your legs trembled terribly, and you panted to catch your breath. Face wet with tears, you didn’t move, waiting for further instruction from the man behind you, who let out a small sigh to himself.

You weren’t sure what that meant.

You felt your thick uniform skirt moved from its place up on your back to cover your bottom again. The thick wool scratching your fresh welts, making you wince again.

“Good girl, Miss _____. I’m mildly impressed by you tonight.”

_Mildly _impressed.

You almost laughed against the desk. You were completely and utterly impressed with yourself but held your tongue. You nodded instead, wiping the tears from your face.

“You may stand, if you can manage.”

You pushed yourself up. Legs feeling like jelly you straightened out your uniform before turning to face your professor, making hesitant eye contact with him.

Your thoughts were racing, replaying the events of the last thirty minutes or so, not sure how to process the night.

“I will reverse your grade in my grade book, I supposed you have earned that.”

You blinked, forgetting for a moment that the only reason you agreed to the punishment was to get your grade back. You nodded quickly and muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the Potion’s Master, despite the fact that you felt you had already thoroughly earned the grade by brewing the potion in the first place.

_Nearly perfect._

He handed you your Hufflepuff robe which you pulled your arms through and clasped in the front. Your legs still felt like jelly, and the heat that had gathered between your legs still lingered making your feel both shameful and excited.

You pulled your bag over your shoulder and turned to leave, Snape redirecting his attention to fixing desk back to the way it was and sat down to grade once again. You felt somewhat disappointed that he didn’t go… well, _further_ tonight.

You blushed at that thought.

You began to open the heavy door to the classroom, mapping out the quickest route to the Hufflepuff common room in your head.

“Miss _____.” You heard behind you, pausing you turn to look.

“Yes, Professor Snape?” Your voice cracked a bit.

“Feel free to come back if you have any more concerns about your _grades _in the future.”

Your eyes widened a bit, before you smiled slightly.

“Yes Sir.”


End file.
